King of Brooklyn
by OllieCollie
Summary: Brooklyn's big, and night's coming. Somebody's lost, and Spot Conlon owes Jack Kelly a favor.


_**A/N: Well, it's been a while. My apologies...life can get crazy quickly! Hope all you Fansies have been doing amazing!**_

_**I'd love if you get a chance to leave a review! They are great pick-me-ups and motivation for writing! Y'all are the best!**_

_**I love Spot Conlon, so I decided to write a story about him. Ages are up for your choosing; I imagined Crutchie being pretty young, though (maybe eight/nine or so?).**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**Usual disclaimers apply.**_

* * *

"Hey, this here's Brooklyn turf!"

Spot Conlon moaned at the shouts of his boys. It had been a long day, and the last thing he needed was the newsies getting wound up over some "trespasser." He stomped over to where Tiger and Will were glowering, a small kid with a newsboy cap cornered in an alley. "Back off, boys," he snapped, not in the mood to deal with this situation. It was getting late. He sighed, eyes landing on the newsie on the ground. "What do we have here?"

The young boy's blond hair was tousled; his hat sliding off his head. A smearing of dirt and tears dotted his face.

Spot frowned, gaze lingering on the crutch next to the boy. Why did this newsie look so familiar? Then it hit him. "'Ey, you're one of Kelly's kids, ain't ya?" Spot thought about it for a moment. Yep, near everybody in Brooklyn had heard about the crip Jack Kelly had taken a liking to. They was best friends, or so it was told.

The kid—Crutchie, now that Spot thought about it—looked downright scared. What kind of stories were spread about the king of Brooklyn that would put such fear on a newsie's face? Spot almost smirked, but then he saw the tears welling up in the young boy's eyes.

"Hey." Spot's gruff voice softened a notch as he stepped closer, crouching in front of the kid. "It's okay. I ain't gonna bite ya."

Crutchie raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"What brings you to Brooklyn?" How the boy had made it all that way with his gimp leg was beyond Spot.

Crutchie swallowed. "I...I was jus' goin' to meet Jack at our usual spot afta' sellin' papes. The Spider saw me, so's I hid in the closest wagon on the street." He sniffled, no doubt thinking of the evil man that sent a chill up anyone's spine, even a Brooklyn newsie's. "Next thing I knows, driver's headed off, and he was goin' fast to where I's couldn't get off without fallin'." He glanced down at the ground, trying to catch his breath after the rush of words.

Now, contrary to popular belief, Spot Conlon was not some heartless, grouchy newsboy leader. He was tough, sure, but he cared deeply for those who managed to get close to him, and was fiercely protective of those who needed protecting. And right now, this Manhattan newsie needed protecting. "You all right?" he asked gruffly, crossing his arms.

The kid nodded, brushing away a lone tear. "I wan' Jack," he whispered.

Spot didn't doubt that the recent memory of the Spida' chasing after Crutchie is what had the kid so scared. Being lost in Brooklyn probably wasn't helping much, either.

Behind them, Tiger snorted.

"Shut up." Spot didn't even turn around as he growled at his friend. The husky newsie fell silent immediately. "C'mon." Spot stood and extended a hand.

Crutchie regarded him warily, eyes drifting to the two boys behind them.

"Don't pay no attention t' them," Spot muttered. "C'mon. I gotta get you back to Manhattan 'fore Kelly comes after me."

Will squinted up at the sky. "It's gettin' late, Spot," he commented. "Might be better to—"

Spot whirled. "Did I ask for you's opinion?"

Will shrugged.

"Then put a sock in it. 'Sides," he added with a shrug, "I owe Kelly a favor."

All three boys looked at the Brooklyn leader in confusion, but he offered no explanation.

At Spot's beckoning, Crutchie finally reached out and clasped the older boy's hand, allowing himself to swiftly be pulled to his feet. He settled his crutch under his arm and winced.

"Them bumpy wagons'll bang ya up a bit," Tiger spoke up, the frown on his face finally beginning to fade. "You'll be okay."

Crutchie simply nodded.

Spot turned to give some last-minute instructions to his friends. "Go on with the others. I'll be back 'fore long."

Will and Tiger knew better than to argue with their leader. They shrugged, grunting their goodbyes before heading off.

The Brooklyn boy waited until they were out of sight before turning his back to Crutchie. "All right, kid."

Crutchie's face scrunched up in a frown, and Spot craned his neck around to eye the gimp's leg.

"You ain't makin' it back to Manhattan like that. Come on. I ain't waitin' all day."

The younger newsie's blue eyes widened in surprise, but he did as he was told. Again, Spot—somewhat proudly—wondered what tales of his reputation had been spun to the Manhattan newsies.

"Now don't go tellin' no one 'bout this," Spot growled, glancing around as he trotted off, Crutchie on his back.

"I won't," the small boy promised. A moment passed. "You is as tough as they say."

Spot didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't.

The trek wasn't awful. By the time Spot crossed over into Manhattan, Crutchie was drifting off, head nodding against Spot's shoulder. He was too innocent, too trusting. It would get him in trouble someday. The Brooklyn boy shook his head. None of his business. Kelly'd just better be grateful for his excursion.

Darkness had fallen when the two boys finally approached the Manhattan lodging house.

"Conlon!" Suddenly, Jack was there, anger and worry transforming into mixture of surprise and relief when he spotted the Brooklyn leader with Crutchie.

Spot could see the questions wanting to burst from the Manhattan leader, but Kelly stayed silent. "Couple of my boys found him. Said he hid from Spida' in a wagon on its way to Brooklyn," Spot explained quickly, mission accomplished and ready to be on his way.

Jack clenched his jaw and nodded, already reaching for Crutchie. The gimp boy moaned when he was pulled from his place on Spot's back, blinking his eyes open. "Jack?"

"Hey, Crutch," Jack muttered, holding the boy up. "You okay?"

Crutchie nodded tiredly against Jack. "'M fine."

"Been lookin' for you's all dang night. Don't scare me like that again," he scolded quietly, tucking the kid closer against his chest. He lifted his gaze to meet Spot's. "Thanks, Conlon."

The short Brooklyn leader nodded once. "Don't mention it. Just...keep your boys off my turf, huh?"

"Sure, Spot."

He lingered a moment more. "So...we even now?"

Jack shrugged. "I reckon."

Spot nodded again and cleared his throat. "The kid knows already, but, far as I's concerned, this never happened."

Jack smirked. "Don't worry, Conlon, I won't let the fact that you actually have heart ruin you's reputation."

The Brooklyn boy gave Kelly one last glare before he disappeared into the night.

Yeah, so what? Heart or no heart, he was still king of Brooklyn.

Let someone try to prove otherwise.


End file.
